Through the Looking Glass
by Darkened Eternity
Summary: In exactly one week from today, Reveille will fall into the emptiness between the universes. Over ten thousand people will be doomed to a wasteland of no return. Cause of the sudden disaster: unknown.
1. The Prologue

_- AN: This fic is planned to be a novel length 100k plus and is intended to be a written in a way where knowledge of both fandoms is not necessary. - _

The sun was stretched like a bloated and overtight canvas clamped around the sky. It glittered gold in the light as a girl danced this way and that. It wasn't quite a waltz, because she was staggering down an alleyway in an almost drunken manner, the dusky blue light of the shade, welcoming the refugee into her quarter.

Today, her nerves were on the edge. Her family were outcasts and not native to this land and she eyed the bustling strangers uneasily and she had run out of supplies days ago. Everything from the damp and cold cobbles of the streets to the too cold weather was unfamiliar to her.

If she had been at home, it would have been summer on the country mansion and the tall trees would have reached through the sky to whisper at the sky.

_Hungry_ a voice brushed her ear. She jumped back, instantly alert, hands reaching for a weapon – but she had none because she had traded the battered knife in days ago, for a small amount of almond meal and a flask to hold water. But there was nothing in the alleyway and the sun still hovered coldly, the dispassionate observer to her internal struggles.

She waited a few minutes, but the chilling voice did not re-emerge. There were tales of monsters in Reveille, of course, monsters to be stopped by the police organisation Pandora. She'd heard of them when she was in the crib and once again when her family had warred with the rival ruling group and her Uncle was humiliated and cast out of the country on the pain of treachery. But enough, Uncle had nothing to do with her life right now.

For all she knew, her father's friend was dead. But still, Vienna walked in the watercolour shade of the foreign buildings. After a couple of blocks, she noticed a warm glow emanating and the distinctive aroma of baking bread. It had been at least a month before her last, proper meal. She breathed it in, deep into her lungs.

Rooted to the spot, she failed to react when a blade of darkness passed straight over her shoulder blade, making an incision in her bone. 'Ow,' she said dazedly, her hand coming away a sticky red.

'Duck!' A man shouted, appearing from one end of the alley and when she didn't move, he grabbed her head and pushed it down just in time before another bolt sliced just above a head with a whistle. She immediately tried to get up, arm half paralysed. She couldn't feel the pain yet, but she knew that in a moment she would be in agonising pain.

The sound of giggling wafted from the air above her head. 'Oh, no nobody wants to play with me after all.'

'Run!' This time she didn't pause, feet flying on the treacherous cobble, away from the unnatural noise. She rapidly retraced her steps, ducking underneath a vendor's overhanging to avoid banging her head, just before the banging noise of the monster emerged. This time, she was treated to the sight of the thing with the face of a lolling doll and pitch black eyes. 'Peekaboo!'

She swore, darting to avoid a mangy hand which raked the pavement and dislodged stones in its wake. She thought of calling to the man who had saved her, but decided against it when a hooded figure appeared at the other end of the avenue, blocking their escape route.

'Isn't there anyone here!' She said to no one. Indeed, the streets looked abandoned, deserted almost.

'Curfew.' stated the man simply several fast paces behind. 'Leave it to me.' One of his hands had disappeared to remove something around his neck.

A tongue of cold air darted above her neck was the only warning she received when the monster's hand buried itself with a vengeance into the pavement.

The doll thing howled as it rounded the corner. The hooded figure was standing to the rear of the monster, seemingly unfazed by the proximity. Closer inspection revealed that the figure was mumbling to the thing encouragingly.

'Call it off!' She roared to the figure, who laughed a quiet wheeze as she was forced to dance nimbly to the left to avoid another piece of darkness. 'Are you insane?'

'Murder won't go unpunished,' added the man. He held out the a piece of embossed metal, which he wore on a chain around his neck, shining a blood tinged gold in the sunset. 'I'm a member of Pandora fail to abide by the rules and I will bring the full force of the law down upon your heads.' He said in a tone of authority. A shape had begun to swell behind him, taking on the definition of a black bird.

There was the briefest sharp _clack_ and the doll disappeared_. _Instinctively, heads turned. 'What was that,' she said tremulously. The man said nothing, grabbed his cloak and hesitantly took a few steps forward. Before she could scream in horror, the man's head rolled forward, severed at the neck by another blade of darkness.

'What did you do that for, he did nothing to hurt you!' She yelled at the figure, which took another step forward. The monster was nowhere to be seen. The figure chuckled dryly. She swore she saw an eye-roll, but she could discern no features underneath the cowl. 'My Chain is starving. I'm sure you understand the meaning of hunger, my dear, or you would not be the thief, wandering the streets at this time. And now that your protector is dead...'

The ground underneath her feet crackled and buckled violently. She was thrown into the air, only to be snatched like a squirming worm on a hook by claws around her neck. She shuddered violently as the giggling escalated into a screeching and the pressure around her neck tightened and her vision was the colour of her red, red hair.

Her vision tunnelled and she blacked out for a second, before she realised she was no longer alone and the grip loosened and she fell to the floor in a crumpled heap onto a corpse, tasting blood which wasn't her own on the displaced stones. She swallowed back dry vomit, it was the Pandora member who had been decapitated and she dragged herself off the body, her shoulder giving off tiny sparks of complaint ignored by her numbed mind.

Steps treaded the uneven surface. 'Is this red haired primate really the one?' A male voice asked condescendingly, sizing her up in a calculating stare.

A female voice let out a short laugh. 'Vansell, unless you want your arse handed on a plate to Our Lady President, I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.'

The one called Vansell had his lips curled back in a grim sneer of distaste, which combined with his simple grey and black robes, cast the aura of a undertaker. The woman was wearing an elaborate set of heliotrope robes and holding some kind of handheld weaponry.

The monster was nowhere to be seen and the mysterious figure which had been controlling the monster she had seen was lying on the ground, face finally revealed, unconscious. It was a surprisingly young girl, with knots of chestnut brown and cherry red lips, about her age.

'You saved me.' She calmly schooled her expression with all the dignity of the noblewoman she used to be.

'It's nothing,' said the woman, as the weapon vanished into the clothes, prodding the body with a curious foot. 'We were only answering a call.' She crouched down and removed another device.

'Of the hypercube.' He was inspecting something white and shiny in his left palm. Then he disappeared behind a corner and reappeared with a quantity of futuristic hardware, which slithered across the ground and connected to place.

'What are you going to do?' She asked weakly. The strangers were ignoring her. She felt the tears of exhaustion flooding her eyes. She sat down.

'One does not alter the timelines without punishment.' Said the male.

'The punishment for breaching the Void,' she nudged the unconscious body, 'is running the timelines backwards.'

'You mean the Abyss,' Vienna supplied weakly. The two did not cast her a glance backwards.

'You've given the primitive more than enough information, Orcav.' Setting the machinery in place, Vansell inspected his handiwork and without another pause, pressed a key sequence in a complicated hexagonal pane and the girl disappeared in a blue glow.

They meant her. She held her tongue. She was too tired to protest against the strange situation. 'If you run time backwards... doesn't that mean she dies? Who are you, to decide if someone lives or dies. Are you the police?'

'It's not our job to educate you.' Orcav was dismissive. She turned. 'We must be going.'

'We're gods. Your civilisation doesn't even make 1 on the Kardashev scale. Our society has no equals. We control the force of the universe.' Vansell said simply. 'Wait.' He was crouching next to a third figure, a toddler, she had at first overlooked. 'Ru, don't put your hands in your mouth.' He scolded, and linked hands with the small figure.

'Vansell shut your mouth, and get going unless you want to pollute this timeline further. I heard about your slavish adherence to the rules, but I never heard about your slavish adherence to idiocy.' Was the frustrated reply.

The pointed comment was ignored by the man.

'Councillor, what about the girl?' said the small voice politely.

Two heads turned to Vienna in unison. 'We'll just leave her be.'

'What about Ru?' Vansell said slowly. 'We had to deliver him... We can't leave him on the vessel.'

'The appointed Caretaker was a criminal, deemed worthy of non-existence. Vansell, he can stay on board a while longer while we find another candidate.' She grimaced. Suddenly, the fact that Vansell had stolen the Oubliette of Eternity made sense. He had known that they'd need it to dispose of the girl, even if he preferred to manipulation and conspiracy over direct action.

They meant the person who had vanished in a blue light. Non-existence. The thought felt frightening. It suddenly clicked as she was crouched among the stones, silent tears flooding down her face.

'We're on a research vessel. We have no weapons apart from the Oubliette, if the Daleks attack...' Vansell was pacing back and forth.

'For Rassilon's sake, Vansell, we can't leave the brother of your friend with a known thief in the furthest arm of Mutter's spiral next to dead bodies. We've already enough Neverpeople and Neverwere to contend with without weaponry from Downstairs adding to the burden.' Orcav sounded as if she was explaining patiently to a child.

'He's a qualified Time Lord, he graduated from the Academy. He'll do perfectly well here,' argued Vansell, rocking on his heel. 'Junior Time Lord,' he amended. He meant toddler, but that didn't seem an appropriate description for the children who had already been exposed to the death and destruction of war. All life was sacred, that was the central tenet of Gallifreyan ideology. From the Beatitude flies with the tiny and delicate golden wings to the savage Outsiders.

'Are you time sensitive?' Orcav's attention turned to the girl, still crouched in front of the headless body, rocking back and forward. The poise and arrogance of a noble had crumbled.

Vienna shook her head dumbly, not sure what they meant. But then she couldn't help herself. 'You brought a child to a battlefield, I don't know what's wrong with you.' She burst out.

With a great effort, Vansell collected his temper. 'Girl,' he said commandingly. 'A criticism levelled against one of us by one _such as you_ would have been deemed worthy of the sternest discipline.' She didn't flinch, meeting his gaze with one of her own.

'Co-ordinator Vansell, leave the poor girl alone unless you want egomania written on your record.' The woman said bitingly. 'She's just watched someone die in front of her.'

'I outrank you.'

'Tell that to the Lady President when I leave you stranded all by your lonesome on a rock.'

'I'm lost.' Vienna said, collecting her strength. All the fury had drained out of her. 'I'm lost in a foreign country.'

'Well, then we'll drop you somewhere where you can get washed and something to eat. A meal would probably be good.' Orcav said with a kind of clinical kindness. Vansell moaned in obvious distress. 'We're showing hospitality to apes. The next thing you know and we'll be inviting humans into the Academy. I signed up for the Celestial Intervention Agency, for Rassilon's sake, not the Wellbeing of Primitives club and the Ferrying of Time Tots club.'

'I'm hungry as well.' Sounded the small voice again. Vansell sighed and ran his hand through his hair. 'Children are so troublesome.' The scene was oddly domestic, Vansell and Orcav walking ahead in their bizarrely ceremonial outfits. A small hand found its way into her hand.

She looked into a pair of colourless eyes. 'Hi.' She said, unnerved that she was talking to an alien child. The air seemed to shift around her.

_Not really. I am going to live in Reveille with my mother._ The connection ended a second later as if the contact had never been established.

'He's telepathic.' She realised she had said that out loud. They looked at her as if she had grown another head.

'You must be imagining things.' Vansell said over his shoulder. 'His biodata, has, ahhh, been altered.' He spoke so quietly that she had to strain her ears to hear it. He let out a sigh as they trotted back to the bread shop.

'Is he yours?' It seemed odd to be asking such a homely question after she had just witnessed a murder. She was still in a state of shock and was walking as if she was an automaton with a predetermined and pre-programmed destination. The sun had set, the clouds were illuminated as if by fire and the chill had intensified.

She remembered that her shoulder was hurting. It was still bleeding

Vansell and Orcav raised an eyebrow. 'You ask awfully personal questions, primate.' The male said.

'You were the one who failed interpersonal studies at the Academy, Vansell.' Pointed out the female sarcastically. 'Perhaps the two of you could be relatives.' Vansell looked offended by the jab at his ancestry.

There was a pause as the three figures scrutinised her face.

'She looks like Ru.' Said Vansell thoughtfully. 'I don't think he'd stand out if he stayed with her.' They looked at the toddler's red hair who was sucking his thumb to Vansell's irritation.

She didn't know whether to be offended by Vansell or feel sorry for his bad manners.

'Maybe. At least we didn't have to home Millennia.'

Vansell chuckled, but Vienna noticed that his face had suddenly saddened as they walked by the glass windows as they winded their way into the core of the city. It was still deserted, the curfew still in place, with people within their homes together with their families.

They had been walking until they were will past the city. The stores had become gradually infrequent, and the cobbles had dissolved into country roads, spanning kilometres. Vienna's feet became sore. 'Here's our stop.' Orcav's tone was abruptly businesslike and had a formality that had been previously absent. "Here" was a large mansion, guarded by twin alabaster stone angels, set silently in place on plinth.

'You are going to leave me here?' She said with a kind of bewildered longing. Orcav and Vansell appeared to be deep in a silent discussion. Ru was standing next to her, a silent spectator in red and gold.

'Of course. It's your home. It's always been your home. Your father misses you. Your mother has been grieving for you for a long time.' Vansell said with a warmth and her senses immediately suspected trickery. But, she was also felt with longing for her family, so that moment passed.

'Where are you two going, now?' But they were already gone. Snow was swirling all around her, like the day that her Uncle had died, the chill of it taking away all the pain of the wound. She had never felt so alive.

'Where are we going now, mother?' Ru asked, Ru which stood for Rufus and his father had died a fateful day in the alleyway. Of course she had forgotten and it was Christmas, the way it had never been before. She saw the wreath, with the golden bells sitting on the jamb. She knocked and they opened for the two of them and she was embraced from the sounds of merry laughter and the warmth of the hearth.

But she never forgot that in quiet moments, her son had the stars of the galaxy in his eyes and carried around a fob watch with him, everywhere and every when.

* * *

_The edge of Mutter's Spiral, 25th of December xx39_

The inside of the research vessel was a minimalistic, steel blue. There was a time when the inside had been carpeted with a brilliant and ornate gold, pillars here and there, but it had been decreed that comfort furnishings were not necessary in a war. The console room was austere, still reflecting light from the planet they had just left.

He rested his head on his hand, illuminated by the green hexagons on the display. 'I hope that he's happy, Councillor.' Vansell said to the wall.

'Vansell resorts to title dropping, a nice political manoeuvre but it won't work on me. Enjoy the holiday mood while you can.' There was a snap, as Orcav ate a snack. She took another and paused. 'We're going to get a grilling. Do you have _any_ idea how many Laws we broke today?'

He shrugged. 'We have Romana's clearance. We're above the law. Besides, we're fighting a war. The policy of non-interference is null and void.' Then he said quietly. 'I always thought it was a stupid law.'

'Spoken like a true renegade.' There was another quiet snap. 'The Doctor would be proud of what his schoolmate has been getting up to.'

Vansell snarled in disgust. 'Like I said, I have always worked for the CIA. I make renegades quietly disappear.'

'I meant it as a compliment. Your hearts are in the right place.' She turned her head to the planet. From ceiling to floor, the almost cinematic view of the planet hovered below. The tiny brilliant points of stars shone. 'Magnificent, isn't it?' She remarked, scanning the lush blue hues below. 'I know why I took the degree in Cosmic Science.'

'It was compulsory.'

'Precisely.'

A beep alerted the two to the arrival of a com. A life-sized hologram of a technician resolved above the hexagonal console, rotating slowly. From time to time, blades of static shredded the visual to pieces, but the image always recovered. 'Councillor Orcav, shall we exit orbit?'

Orcav gave her assent. _Sol_ III it was. The digital output showed the name of the next child, written in the modern circular script, flashed above the readout.

As they entered the blank blue – grey of the swirling space time vortex and the omnipresent threat of forks of temporal storms, she turned to Vansell. 'Rufus, does he become a great Duke?'

'Mm.'

With that final parting comment, a Time Lord and a Time Lady, sat from the obsolete research vessel – the only vessel available - watching the turn of the universe. Such was the destiny of a Time Lord, the most enlightened of their race chosen to observe the seeds of timelines blossoming from afar, sworn never to interfere.


	2. Chapter 2

Oz pushed aside the leaves outside the window. The sky outside was a violent shade of light blue. He sighed. His eyes picked out the country road, while his stomach knotted. They'd moved here after the threat of the Baskervilles had become too much for them to bear.

'I hate hiding.' It was true, he'd rather be back with Break on the edge of Reveille with the country plunged into political collapse, instead of playing this endless game of hide and seek. But the risk...

Gilbert was oiling his already spotless gun once more with a white cloth. Along with smoking, it was one of his little nervous habits which he'd seemed to pick up during Oz's absence in the Abyss. His mouth curved into a little smile as Oz's gaze dropped onto him. 'Are you ok, Oz?'

Yeah, he was fine. His shoulders dropped slightly.

It was a homely room, plenty of sun with large windows and indoor pot plants and definitely had a calming influence on his taut nerves. He guessed that the previous resident had been an architect. The walls, newly painted, spoke of innate artistic talent and together with the position of the eaves, created an even natural shade which dappled the room.

He raked a couple of fingers through the flick in his hair. Almost dying twice a week was something he'd yet to become accustomed to. After the fiasco at Isla Yura's estate – no he couldn't think of that. It was painful beyond belief. Someone he'd thought of as a friend had died.

He felt fine. He went into the kitchen to fetch some food – of which there was no short supply – and picked up four slices of bread. He picked up a tomato and rinsed it with a bucket of treated rainwater – Sharon hadn't wanted him getting sick from bugs – then took up the comforting weight of the knife and sliced it up. Then he added some ham and cheese to the two sandwiches. Proud of his handiwork, he picked up the tray and headed back to the living room.

'No, no.' Gil was talking to someone on the telephone. Pandora had tried to keep them connected to affairs in the outside world. It was a decent, albeit expensive attempt. The technology was still new and the wires and the electricity were expensive. After all, they still relied primarily on the cylindrical oil lamps, which gave off an unhealthy yellow glow and smelled like compost. They had also tried the electrical telegraph with little success and there had also been an incident with one of Duke Barma's pet pigeons – a Noodle incident which they had never cared to mention again.

The pigeon, as if hearing Oz's thoughts, wobbled around the room and gazed with large insisting bird-eyes at the food.

'Shoo.' He muttered, half heartedly. The pigeon looked heartbroken, and flapped its iridescent wings. When that manoeuvre failed to bring about the materialisation of food, the bird, as proud and arrogant as the Duke himself, stalked over to the table and attacked the food with an all too human glee. Oz threw his hands up in defeat.

'Problems?' Queried Gil.

'No, it's just the fact that the bird ate the food I prepared for you.' Scowled Oz. 'It's no worry, I'll just make some more.'

A hand fell on his shoulder before he could leave. 'Alice and the others are on their way.'

'Surprised that they haven't forgotten us.' Oz's voice was just loud enough to hear, through Gil's coat. It was as if they were children and Oz had sprained his knees again and Gil had endured half and hour's worth of tears shed into his hair; eliciting a strained grimace from Zai who had elected to fetch the more heartfelt Oscar.

'Be the brave Oz I know. Ok?' Gil said quietly and tentatively petted his master's head before withdrawing his hand. A loud rap at the door sounded and there was the sound of grumbles and the tapping of an impatient shoe on the pavement. A few seconds later, Gil answered the door and Oz was just rubbing his eyes when a hand sent the door jamb flying backwards with a flick and the door slammed back so hard that a stunned Gil practically jumped backwards in fright.

'I've missed my servant.' Announced Alice, marching in. She paused at the coat rack to hang up her clothes on tip toes and pinched both of Oz's cheeks. 'How are we, my little contractor?'

Oz nodded, unable to move his mouth from underneath Alice's overly firm grip. Then she held up one finger and yelled, 'Never do that again!'

'Yes, well I didn't exactly choose to be kidnapped.'

Alice fidgeted at that comment. 'Well, I met my sister.'

'And?'

Alice crossed her arms with a harrumph. 'She's not going to help us.' She stared at the wide faces around her. 'But I carefully explained to her the truth behind Jack's motives. She doesn't approve of his actions either and she won't do anything to harm or hurt our objectives.'

There was a collective sigh of relief and so intent were they on Alice's statement that they never notice the statue of an angel move ever so slightly in the front yard. Until it no longer stood with its hands in front of its face, but its hands holding the leaves of the branch the bare minimum required to peer intently into the window, in an attempt to divine their purpose.

By the time somebody thought to look up, the hand had already been removed and the statue was back to its telltale position. The movement was easily dismissed as a gust of wind and only the keenest observer would have noticed the ever so slight smile curving the angel's lips upwards.


	3. Chapter 3

Reim opened the door to a sweltering inferno contained within the study. The source of heat was soon discovered, a raging bonfire had been stoked in the stone fireplace and stoked until the timber had caught alight in a roaring bonfire.

Reim sighed and left the door slightly ajar. He knew better than to douse the flames immediately, however tempting it was.

'Sir, do you want me to put this out?' He enquired of his master who was pre-occupied with a shelf on the second level above the helical staircase, a tidy row of books at his fingertips with green and blue colours which were slightly dog-eared from use.

On his first day at the mansion, Reim had had the misfortune of discovering that the shelves had extra depth, notably an extra three rows of books hidden behind the first row. These rows mostly consisted of reference books which had been demoted to the fiction section and ordered depending on their varying degrees of usefulness to the room's main occupant.

'No. You look a little lost, Reim' The Duke said plainly when the other man had clambered up the staircase, past the barrage of shelves. The fountain pen spun in his hand, round and round his fingers and not a smile was to be seen on his face. Not that the man smiled normally, but this time he seemed particularly severe, a sign of impending trouble.

Ah, so he was in one of his moods then. That explained the fire. The room was always too hot or too cold, it all depended on the Duke's mood which fluctuated often. Once, Reim had even caught the Duke opening all the windows in his study even when the temperature was far below zero and the trees were heavy with snow. The room had been so cold that the Duke's lips had turned blue and frost had collected around his extremities. That time, Reim had to drag him back downstairs where it was warmer, because his Master had lapsed into unconsciousness from hypothermia. But when the infuriating man awoke, he claimed that it had been Reim's fault that he couldn't think correctly and protested at every opportunity. That was, until Reim patiently asked the Duke whether he preferred to die out in the cold.

For the first time in a long time, Duke Barma had been left scrambling in the dust for appropriate words.

Reim pursed his lips and attempted to smooth over the situation. Best to press ahead. 'Sir, Alice, Sharon and Break are due a visit to the country estate where Oz and Gil are located.'

A flash of disappointment crossed the unreadable face but it vanished in an instant. 'You want to join your precious friends. You were as easy to read then as you are now.' He turned his head subtly to the side. 'I'm disappointed.'

Reim suppressed a sigh. 'I've completed all the other tasks.'

The Duke's attention snapped back in annoyance. 'List them. The details have slipped from my memory.'

'I've filed and tabulated the minutes from the last meeting and the second last written correspondence between yourself and Duke Nightray. I've re-ordered last year's letters, they're downstairs and tyrannised the kitchen staff into preparing meals an hour earlier. '

As the Duke considered the statement, he seemed to retreat so that there was less of him in the room. 'I want you to move the white angel statue. It's giving me a headache.' Then he went back to the books after issuing the mundane task, endeavouring to ignore Reim. A small handwritten snitch of paper drew his eyes. He made out two words: 'It moved' and a small date stamp written in the Duke's illegible scrawl, which welled up with annoyance as if the subject was personally spiting him.

The Duke loathed handwriting.

'Should I call a physician?'

It was an attempt a veiled reference to night terrors, something which the Duke might find less offensive then stating his concerns outright. But apparently not, from the other man's reaction, a subtle tightening of the hand around the book's spine and tension in the muscles around the eyes. He sensed a trace of pure loathing on his master's face, the spine pulled upright in defensiveness and the look of a cornered animal. If the Duke had been tired before, he certainly didn't look it now.

'No! Take your dismissal and go. Forget about the statue, someone else will remove it.'

Reim went, sensing the wall. The Duke had barricaded himself and shut himself down since he'd aligned himself with the Baskervilles. There were little tests of loyalty now and then and Reim was never sure whether he'd passed or failed or whether he was wanted here at all.

* * *

Rufus immediately abandoned the pretence once the door closed. 'I've seen you move.' He wearily reminded his adversary outside. From his vantage point, he could see greenery and only a little of the statue.

It vanished with the next blink. A small patch of barely depressed grass was all that remained, still green, despite the fact that he had been seeing the statue on that spot for months at a time.

Dodo could have perhaps kept an eye on it, if his Chain had not been far away, perched in preternatural blackness watching over Sheryl. That double edged blade of duty, not being able to move one step outside his household without being called in for the next hour's emergency.

Humanity... was bleak. Flawed.

Hours later when lunch was served to him, he could still hear the sound of Dodo's inhuman chuckle ringing in his ears.

**AN: So yes, I'm revising this. I haven't forgotten about it at all, I've just been caught red handed doing a whole bunch of Doctor Who/Pandora Hearts art crossovers based on this verse. .****  
**


	4. Chapter 4

The broken pocket watch spooled another mournful thread of beautiful music.

Tick.

He wound up the broken watch. 'Lacie,' Oz murmured. He took his place at the table, Break on his right. The white haired man was calmly watching a blackbird with metallic green in its feathers waltzing atop a red wallbox in the garden, its claws clicking on the metal surface. Alice gave a friendly smile and went back to munching on her meat.

Break poured some tea, a gentle clink of porcelain knocking against a cup, if a little sloppily. He was as cheery as ever, particularly when Sharon arrived in a horsedrawn carriage which parked itself on the dusty edge of the estate.

'Break, you're alive!' She crooned with joy and skipped over to Xerxes, squeezing him in such an affectionate and tight hug that even he winced slightly. He bore it all, they'd been separated since Sharon had led the rescue party and been the key instigator of negotiations between the Baskervilles and Pandora.

'Hello, Master Oz. Long time no see.' The bespectacled Reim followed closely behind, Gil, flouting his habit of adjusting his glasses and tripped over his feet in awkward introductions and wrung his hands with an apology for being late.

'Nice to see you!' Oz grinned evilly at Reim. 'Since we're all back together again and that annoying master of yours isn't here, let's sit down and tell some horror stories.' He said with some much needed levity.

Reim shrunk back, but Break burst out laughing at the suggestion. 'Reim, pull up another chair before you trip yourself up with niceties.' He tapped one spoon against his tea cup and with a flourish emptied a generous amount of honey into his already over sweetened tea. 'How's things with bird brain?'

'He's not pleased.' Reim rattled off a list of minor issues. 'Also, I think he's worried that Pandora will find out that he's responsible for Sheryl's injuries and execute him.'

Well, that was hardly a secret, was it? For the grief the man had caused poor Sheryl and the rest of the Rainsworth household, Break was tempted to risk the Baskerville's wrath and finish the man. Only the fear of another political vacuum like the Nightray's, kept him in his place and the fear of a bitter civil war waged between the minor houses kept him in place. Even if the Baskervilles and Pandora now worked towards a common goal – to stop the return of Jack Vessalius' soul and obtain the Intention of the Abyss –it would undoubtedly end badly.

Not that he would ever tell poor Reim. His friend didn't deserve the grief of having divided loyalties. No, the Duke was Break's responsibility alone and he'd shoulder the burden himself.

'Ah well, at least this time you didn't fetch him blooming tea instead of Earl Grey, isn't it?' Break smiled, knuckles knocking against his glass.

Reim sent him a glare, but visibly lightened. Before Break could conduct another investigation into Barma's drinking preferences, he blurted, 'How are your eyes?'

That sent Break's brows furrowing down. 'Fine, fine, great, fine.' He said and fished out a napkin.

In Break-speak, that meant worse. Reim had dug up some of Barma's medical texts and found a reference to blindness which perfectly matched Break's condition. Macular degeneration, it was apparently called. He'd felt slightly queasy reading through all the cases and symptoms. No recovery, the phrase had jumped out. Incurable.

He gazed at his friend who was chatting to Oz, wondering what the ultimate effect of two contracts would be. Would his friend go mad? Would he die first? Reim shook out his head. It was no use thinking such thoughts, he told himself. Negativity would not benefit himself nor Break.

'The fourth seal has been broken,' Break was saying as he speared another piece of cake onto one end of a fork, waving it like a conductor's baton.

'So we have no idea when and if Jack will resurface.' Reim told Oz.


End file.
